


Sad

by Cyane (orphan_account)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Culverton Smith is Creepy, Episode: s04e02 The Lying Detective, Hearing Voices, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Mycroft, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sherlock Needs A Hug, Spoilers, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-11
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-09-15 23:24:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9263396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Cyane
Summary: John, Mycroft, Sherlock, and Lestrade all have a listen to the audio recording to make sure that Sherlock's assault wasn't, in fact, Culverton Smith helping him.Sherlock had said a few things he did not mean for John- or anyone else- to hear.S4E2 SPOILERS





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Spoiler warning. You've been fucking warned. 
> 
> I've calmed down now. I understand John is grieving. Mary is awesome. I'm really sorry. And by the end of it John patched it up with Sherlock and I'm happy with him.  
> But John doesn't get my forgiveness on one thing; him beating Sherlock into a bloody pulp and blaming him when he was having what looked like a pretty severe mental breakdown and panic attack.
> 
> \- Sherlock said he had forgotten things, forgotten parts of the plan. This fic is going off the assumption that Sherlock had forgotten he had put an audio recorder in John's walking stick and he was really begging Smith to kill him and then repeatedly *sob* saying he didn't want to die.
> 
> Anyway.

"You nearly overdosed on saline, brother dearest," Mycroft drawled sarcastically. "I'd be surprised if you remembered anything."

"That doesn't change anything. I need to hear it- first. Before anyone else."

John let out a sardonic snort. "Why? To make sure there's nothing embarrassing on it?"

Sherlock ducked his head in frustration. "I can't remember what I said and if I said something important I need to hear it in a room where I can listen without the obnoxious sound of you all breathing!"

Mycroft smirked. "Definitely something embarrassing. Turn it on, would you, Lestrade, dear?"

Greg took a deep breath and muttered out, "Don't call me dear, you big-" before walking over to the audio device and plugging it in with a speaker.

He had managed to get Mycroft, Sherlock, and John together to listen to it beforehand, making sure evidence was concrete. (Mycroft had done most everything else to arrange it so they could listen.)

"Go 'head and sit down, you three," Greg said, fiddling with the machine.

Mycroft and John hesitated before sitting down, whereas Sherlock immediately flopped onto the nearest chair.

Greg flipped it on.

Muffled static slowly drained out and then the distinct beep of a heart monitor came in. The static rolled away into satisfying quality. There were several loud bumping noises, and Lestrade quickly paused it.

"Oi, Sherlock? Any idea what those noises were?" 

Sherlock pursed his lips. "Sliding door. It's how he got in."

He didn't say anything else, so Greg reached out and pressed play once more. Mycroft was giving Sherlock a long look, furrowing his eyebrows in concentration. Greg didn't say anything, but he knew something was the matter.

There was a long scratching noise. "Chair," Sherlock summarized over the noise. 

John frowned. "This... Smith came in _at least_ three hours before I came in."

Everyone turned to Sherlock, who was still flopped over, uncaring, in the chair, looking bored. "Yes. He showed up before I was awake."

Mycroft looked up sharply, sarcastic humour vaporizing instantly.

Greg was working on the tape, trying to figure out how far he would have to skip before there was any actual audio to listen to. If Smith had showed up early, when Sherlock was still sleeping... (Greg shuddered at the thought. That man was an entirely different level of creepy.)

There was a noise and Greg stopped skimming through it. Everyone turned to the recording.

_"So beautiful..."_

Everyone stiffened. Sherlock looked away deliberately, avoiding Mycroft's piercing look. 

_"Such a shame, really,"_ Culverton's voice came through in a whisper. 

John shifted. He was glad, in a way, that it was only audio. He really didn't want to imagine the sort of things Culverton... could be... doing. And nobody was really sure if Sherlock was lying about not remembering much. 

John sincerely hoped that Sherlock wasn't hiding anything like _that_. 

Based on the way Mycroft was growling in barely-concealed rage, John knew he wasn't alone in the sentiment. 

It took another ten minutes for Greg to find the next bits of audio. 

_"Wakey-wakey, little Sherlock..."_

Sherlock was visibly uncomfortable. It was evident that he did not remember this part. 

_"...Doctor Watson really did a number on you, eh?"_ John flushed and cautiously looked up at Sherlock, who was still pointedly looking at the wall. Mycroft turned and glared poison at him.

There was more long silence. Then the heart monitor gave a tiny jump and heavy breathing came through. 

"You wake up?" Greg asked.

Sherlock nodded.

 _"You've spent ages waking up,"_ Culverton's voice said. _"I watched you."_

Greg wrinkled his nose. 

_"It's quite lovely, in it's way._

John also decided to wrinkle his nose. 

It really just wasn't right, to behave like that to Sherlock. Sherlock was different. Nobody should ever say anything like that to Sherlock. And yes, Sherlock probably had past boyfriends, or girlfriends. And then Magnussen. And now Culverton. But it was just so... wrong.

_"Take it easy... s'okay. I don't want to rush this. You're Sherlock Holmes."_

"Sherlock." Mycroft whispered. Rhetorically. 

_"How did you- get in?"_ Sherlock rasped over the audio. John straightened a bit at how confused his voice sounded. 

_"C'mon,"_ Culverton sneered. _"Can't you guess?"_

_"...Secret door."_

But, evidently, not too confused to still make incredible deductions.

 _"I built this whole wing. Kept firing the architects-"_ Static interrupted momentarily. _"-how it all fitted together. I can slip in and out. Anywhere I like, you know... when I get the urge."_

John strained to hear as the voices got quieter and more muffled.

 _"Murder house,"_ Culverton said again. _"But done right."_

Pause.

_"I have a question for you. Why are you here? So you walked into my den and laid down in front of me. Why?"_

John's eyes flicked up from concentration as the Sherlock in the chair next to him stiffened.

_"You know why I'm here."_

_"I'd like to hear you say it,"_ Culverton Smith insisted. _"Say it for me, please."_

_"I want you to kill me."_

Greg closed his eyes and paused the recording. "Sherlock, what the bloody hell?" 

Interrupted swiftly, John quickly explained the situation. "He did it because he knew I would be there for him."

Mycroft coughed. "No. Sherlock had completely forgotten about the recording." At Sherlock's betrayed look, he continued. "My brother knew he had to go to hell. He had forgotten why, with all the drugs, but he knew it had to do with you, Doctor Watson. And Sherlock would do anything for you. I saw it the moment he came in. You didn't remember the recordings-- or the saline-- until after."

John turned to Sherlock in furious anger. 

Sherlock made a grunting noise. "Just get on with it, won't you?!"

Greg obliged with a long sigh.

_"Increase the dosage, four or five times. Toxic shock should shut me down- within about an hour."_

_"...Then I restore the settings."_ Culverton caught on. _"Everyone assumes it was a fault, or... you just gave up the ghost."_

_"Yes."_

_"You're right good at this. Before we start, tell me how you feel."_

John was not ready to hear this. Not after Mary. Not after everything- not... god. He didn't want to hear what Sherlock was feeling because sometimes it hurt to remember the man had feelings. That he did, indeed, _feel_ pain and hurt, and he just hid it or pretended he didn't.

There was a long silence. John was almost relieved as he thought Sherlock wouldn't give the man the pleasure of an answer.

_"I fe-... I feel sad."_

And John leaned his head back and wanted to cry. Because this was Sherlock- _genuinely_ believing he was about to let himself die. He didn't know why, he only knew it was for John. And Sherlock was admitting he was sad. And that was surely something. 

Culverton let out a breathy chuckle. _"Be more specific. You only get to do this the once."_

 _"I feel... scared of dying..."_ Sherlock's voice was getting shakier.

 _"You wanted this, though,"_ Culverton pointed out. 

_"I have reasons."_

That reason being John. 

John Watson.

One non-specific 'go to hell' from John's late wife and Sherlock didn't hesitate to tell a madman to overdose him. 

_"But you don't actually want to die."_

_"No."_

Mycroft had two fingers on his temple, one hand periodically skimming over his own knee as if to assure himself that it was still there, that _Sherlock_ was there, that this was in the past.

 _"Good,"_ Culverton Smith said, and John wished that he had let Sherlock scalpel the man.

There was a series of what sounded like a bag rustling, and John prayed to god that it wasn't Sherlock sniffling. _"Say that for me. Say it."_

Sherlock's voice was emotionless. _"I don't want to die."_

 _"And again,"_ Culverton ordered.

 _"I don't... want to die..."_ Sherlock repeated, sounding a bit confused. 

_"Once more, for luck!"_ Smith whispered. 

_"...I don't w-ant to die,"_ And this time, Sherlock's voice was wavering, shaking, choked off and completely broken. And with it, John put his head in his hands. It was gut wrenching to listen to. John never wanted to hear Sherlock sound like that, ever again. Like kicking a stoic, cold cat and watching it break to fear as you slowly killed it. 

_"I don't-... I don't want to die!"_ Sherlock's whispered voice came once more, a plea, a sound of anguish. Mycroft's resolve cracked that time, as well, wincing at his little brother's voice.

Culverton said something muffled by the audio. And then:

_"Here it comes."_

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

_"So tell me, why are we doing this? To what do I owe the pleasure?"_

_"I wanted to hear your confession,"_ Sherlock mumbled. Greg sat up straighter, grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. _"needed to know I was right."_

 _"Why do you need to die?"_ Smith asked.

Sherlock elaborated. _"The mortuary. Your favourite room; you talk to the dead, you make your confession to them. Why do you do it?"_

 _"Why do I kill 'em?"_ John could almost see the look on the other man's face. _"See it's not about hatred, or revenge... I'm not a dark person."_

The Sherlock sitting next to John in the chair snorted. 

_"Killing human beings..."_ Culverton laughed. _"It just makes me- ah!- incredibly happy. Whhh. Now, you know in films, when you see people pretending to be dead, and it's just- living people lying down? That's not what dead people look like. Dead people... look like_ things _. I like to make people into_ things _. Then you can own them."_

Greg and John shared a look.

Culverton didn't stop there, though. _"You know what? I'm getting a little impatient."_

Long pause.

_"Take a big breath, if you want."_

There was a huge gasp of air and John visibly trembled, remembering what he had seen. Culverton was suffocating him. 

_"Murder is a very- difficult- addiction to manage- people don't realize how much work goes into it!"_ Culverton Smith's voice strained as Sherlock struggled. _"You have to be careful! Maybe even rich and famous or- loved! It's amazing, what people are prepared to ignore! But there's always someone desperate, or wants to go missing- no one wants to suspect-"_

His voice got increasingly run over by the two struggling, one to achieve murder, and one to get precious air once again. 

_"Maintain eye contact,"_ Smith hissed out. There was a series of more murder-y whispering and jerking and choking noises. 

There was also rustling coming from the door. 

Bang, bang!

And just as the heart monitor started going crazy, the door busted open and an alarm seemed to go off. John wanted to scream at himself- hurry, hurry, hurry!

_"Mr. Holmes, are you okay?"_

_"What were you doing to him?"_ John's voice came through, sounding absolutely murderous. (What a convenient time.)

 _"WHAT were you doing?!"_ John screamed at Culverton, who recoiled sharply. _"H-he was in distress, I'm helping him!"_

_"Restrain him, now- do it!"_

_"I was tryin' to help him!"_

_"Sherlock, what was he doing to you?!"_

Sherlock was gasping for air. _"Suffocating me,"_ He wheezed. _"Overdosing me-"_

_"-on what?"_

_"Saline,"_ Sherlock remembered. 

_"Saline?"_

_"Yes, saline."_

_"What do you mean, saline?"_

Another desperate attempt for air. _"Well, you see- I had Miss Corniche switch the bags, she's been kindly enough. Loves my blog."_

 _"You're okay,"_ John said in relief.

 _"No- no, of course I'm not okay!"_ Sherlock snapped. _"Malnourished, double kidney failure, and frankly I've been off my- for weeks. What kind of a doctor are you?"_ He groaned in pain. _"Got my confession, though, didn't I?"_

Culverton's slightly-crazed laugh quickly spurted from the man. _"I don't recall making any- confession! Wh-wh-What would I be confessing to?"_

_"You can listen to it later."_

_"There is no confession to listen to! Oh- Mr. Holmes, I don't know if this is relevant- but- we found three potential recording devices in the pockets of your coat... all your possessions were searched. Sorry."_

The smug bastard. 

Mycroft smirked.

 _"There must be something comforting about the number three... people always seem to give up after three..."_ Sherlock murmured. 

_"What is-what is it?"_ John asked. _"...oh...you_ cock _."_

_"Yeah."_

_"Utter-_ utter cock _."_

_"Heard you the first time."_

There was a considerable amount of shaking, going by the fact that John had just picked up his walking cane. _"So how does it open?"_

_"Screw the top."_

More scuffling, static, and noise as it moved around and John picked it up.

_"Two weeks ago?"_

_"Three."_

_"I'm that predictable?"_

_"...no. I'm just a-"_

Greg clicked off the recording and everyone turned towards Sherlock.

"I believe that was your confession, Gray," Sherlock deliberately ignored their stares. Mycroft didn't waver in the slightest. "Brother, dear, what about your own confessions? Are we to put you back on suicide watch?"

Sherlock groaned. "No, you daft idiot! Didn't you hear me? I don't want to die. My life is not my own. I was only doing it to-"

"We've already established that you barely remember a thing!" John snarked back. 

Greg rubbed his eyes. "That was the confession. I hate to kick you all out, but this case is taking it's toll and I have to meet up with Culverton Smith and his lawyer now. Can't you two go to therapy session with Sherlock?"

"I resent that," Sherlock said.

Mycroft, John, and Sherlock left the interrogation room.

**Author's Note:**

> What a lame ending. But I'm not about to go on and do the whole therapy thing. The point of this was to show Mycroft/John/Lestrade/Sherlock reactions to the scene.
> 
> **I might do pt.2 some other time**
> 
> ALSO, SOME NOTES:
> 
> \- Culverton Smith is creepy as fuck. First of all, watching someone sleep. And that's just the first thing.
> 
> \- I realize there are some plot holes. No need to remind me, with the AU and timeline issues, it was destined to be. Just enjoy. Or not.
> 
> \- PLEASE comment and tell me if I got any part of the audio off. It was super hard to hear the exact phrasing and so any help on that is much appreciated. You can tell I cheated some of it with the 'static cuts it off' biz. Don't tell.
> 
> Thanks for reading


End file.
